


Peace Offering

by KinkyPlotBunny



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Loki fixing things, M/M, Magic, Romance, loki being an idiot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:33:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28717341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KinkyPlotBunny/pseuds/KinkyPlotBunny
Summary: Loki spent an amazing time with Stephen Strange, but Loki being Loki, he messed it up. But he can't let it rest, and he finds a way to make it alright.Kind of a fix-it of AuroraWest's "far away from here and closer to somewhere else" which absolutely doesn't need any fixing because it's gorgeous and beautiful but then again it kinda does because it's so sad and I want them to be happy, the idiots.
Relationships: Loki/Stephen Strange
Comments: 12
Kudos: 38





	Peace Offering

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AuroraWest](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraWest/gifts).
  * Inspired by [far away from here and closer to somewhere else](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28514421) by [AuroraWest](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraWest/pseuds/AuroraWest). 



> The part in italics is from the original work. Treat it like a "previously on" - but actually I think you should read the whole thing. I'm not sure if it's absolutely necessary in order to understand my story - but it's so good!

_The two of them looked at each other. Loki’s vision kept fuzzing around the edges, but he concentrated on Strange, Strange in his t-shirt and his jeans, looking so human. Terribly human._ _Stay_ _, whispered a traitorous voice in his mind. It was a voice that would have him move over on the berth and hold out an arm. An invitation. An acknowledgement._

_Impossible. Loki closed his eyes and rolled over onto his side, facing the bulkhead. “Good-bye,” he said, knowing he sounded pitiful._

_“Thanks for dinner,” Strange said._

_“Welcome.”_

_“Thanks for…” But Strange trailed off._

_“Strange.” Loki’s head was starting to hurt. “_ _Good-bye_ _.”_

_There was silence, then the sound of a portal, which spit, hissed, and closed._

_The truth. The truth could go to Hel._

_Loki hoped he didn’t remember any of this in the morning_.

Loki fucking did remember it in the morning. Every single moment.

Their easy banter over getting more and more drunk together.

Strange’s mouth on the bottle. The sight of his stomach as he stretched.

Strange explaining to him what a Molotov Cocktail was, and how much he had loved the idea.

That stupid, norn-awful game. Truth. Well, truth or dare, but the terrifying part had of course been truth. It had been terrifying because Loki was so drunk that truth seemed like a good thing. Something he would actually do. Say. Speak. Whatever. He _wanted_ to be honest with Strange. The… _hope_ on the other man’s face as he was waiting for Loki to ask a question. He had looked so ridiculously open and vulnerable, as if he would have _actually_ followed through with it and told Loki the truth.

Loki swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth and his headache came back with a vengeance.

The questions Loki had pondered. Gods and monsters. Good thing he had had a shred of common sense left. For a moment he couldn’t remember if maybe he _had_ asked one of them. Panic. No. Nonononono. He hadn’t. No. He had actually asked Stephen Strange a random, meaningless question about Wong.

Loki’s stomach cramped as he remembered the moment. How something had died in Strange’s eyes. How the night had gone to Hel from there. Strange’s concern and kindness, which had felt wrong, so wrong, because he didn’t deserve them. Had never deserved them in the first place. Had finally lost any right to them when he asked that question like the coward he was, instead of any of the others going through his mind.

And Loki lost the fight for composure when he remembered himself practically throwing Strange out. So what if there were tears in his throat, and so what if they made it to his eyes and onto his face. So what if he was crying because he was cold, and miserable, and hungover, and fucking alone, and because it was his own norn damned fault.

Loki made it back to New Asgard in one piece. _I don’t want you to crash into the ocean and never be seen again._ Could those cursed tears finally stay in his throat thank you very much? He took a breath. Then another one. Checked his appearance. Good enough for the people in the streets. Probably not good enough for Thor. So he cast a veil to mask his sadness and exhaustion. Thor would be easily able to relate to a hangover, but it was so unusual for Loki that his brother would ask questions. Which was the last thing Loki needed.

Loki buried himself in his books. It had taken him so much time and effort to create something that would even remotely justify the word library, and still it was pitiful compared to Asgard’s. But then again, everything was pitiful compared to Asgard… he pulled himself out of his somber thoughts when he felt something tug at the corner of his mind. He stared at the passage he had just read. Then he read it again. And then he jumped up and took a second book from the shelf, a tome actually more than a book, and found the page he had just remembered. It led to another tome, and then another one. He worked himself into a frenzy, piles of books growing and being discarded and growing again, and sometime in the early morning he sat back and let out a breath. It felt as if he’d been holding it for hours.

By the norns. This might actually work. He was restless, but also completely exhausted, and he knew he wouldn’t get _anything_ done, certainly not a complex spell, in the state he was in. He needed rest.

Loki spent weeks working on the spell. And then he set out to find ways to test it. It kept going wrong. He was ready to abandon the project more than once, but every time he thought about giving up, something new came to him in the early hours of the day, or late at night, or even over lunch with Thor. His mind was incapable of letting it go, and when he imagined the possible result he found himself smiling. Every time. And then, one afternoon, it worked. He tried it again, and again, just to be sure. That was it. He’d done it. Smiling to himself he rolled his shoulders. Yes. It was time for one of those by chance encounters he and Stephen Strange had gotten so good at.

Strange was harder to find than Loki had imagined. He hadn’t been at any of the Sanctums, and he hadn’t been at Kamar-Taj. Loki finally found him in Potsdam, Germany of all places, where the Sorcerer Supreme had just sent a small army of glowing oxygen breathing octopuses back to their dimension. Strange closed the portal they had disappeared through and looked at Loki.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, neutral, smooth. Not even out of breath.

“I think I found something, Strange. A way to fix your hands.”

Loki held his breath. It sounded awfully blunt, now that he had actually said it out loud. It had never felt his blunt when he’d practiced it... his palms were sweaty, and he discretely vanished the dampness to another dimension. Funny if it ended up in the same place Strange had sent… anyway.

Strange squared his shoulders.

“My hands are none of your business.”

What? But… Loki took a breath, deliberately keeping his temper in check.

“Think about it! What if you could get your strength back. Coordination. Fine motor skills. What if…” Loki’s voice turned soft. “…the shaking would stop.”

Strange’s jaw clenched.

“You said you’re not a healer.”

“I’m not, that’s true. Which is why I have never thought of this before. It’s not technically a healing spell anyway. More like complex layers of different kinds of spells. We’d – infuse your hands with different kinds of energy. Bones, muscles, sinews, tissue, they all need a different kind of – repair, for lack of a better word. But it might work.”

Strange still wasn’t looking at him.

“What's in it for you?”

That… hurt. Loki took another breath and raised his chin.

“I get to prove that I can do it. That I'm right.”

Strange didn’t say anything, but he opened a portal and teleported them to the New York sanctum. Sitting down in an armchair, letting out a small sigh, he gestured for Loki to sit as well, and then he said:

“So let’s say we do it. Where’s the catch?”

Loki had hoped that particular discussion would happen at a later point, but of course Strange had to go straight for it. Loki bit his lip.

“It won’t be permanent. We’d have to do it again when you feel the effect wear off.”

Strange huffed out a laugh.

“So that’s what‘s in it for you. You want me crawling back to you begging for your generous help every time I start losing what you’ve given me.”

And _that_ hurt even more. It took Loki all his will power to stay calm.

“It wouldn't have to be me,” he said, voice neutral. “Wong, or the Scarlet Witch, would probably be capable of helping you with it. I can teach them. Or I can teach you. You can teach them.”

Strange stared at Loki.

“You genuinely want to help me.”

“You don’t have to sound _that_ surprised.”

“I just…,” Stephen sighed. “You’re hard to… wrap my head around. Which is probably deliberate. So I’m not telling you anything new.”

When Loki didn’t answer, Strange leaned a little closer.

“Back then, in Hong Kong, I thought…” He heaved another sigh. “But then you threw me out and I haven’t seen you in six months.”

“It’s a complicated incantation. It took some time.”

Strange opened his mouth but didn’t speak for a few seconds. And the he said:

“You didn't find this by accident. You made it sound as if you'd stumbled across it, but that’s not true. You deliberately went looking for it. You spent months working on a spell to fix my hands!”

“Well, yes, but since you made it very clear you don’t want it I might as well find a new hobby.”

Strange closed his eyes for a moment.

“Of course I want it. If there’s just the slightest chance that this might work – and knowing you, it _will_ work – I would have to be an idiot not to want it. I’m sorry for my initial reaction, Loki. It was unfair and unnecessary.”

That felt… nice.

“Apology accepted,” Loki said, a whole array of emotions passing through his soul, especially when the fact finally registered with him that Strange had praised him, casually, as if it was common knowledge that the human wizard simply referenced in passing. _That_ felt really nice.

Strange cleared his throat.

“So. What do we do?”

Loki pulled himself together. He was nervous all of a sudden. This was important. It had to work.

“We fuse my seidr with your magic. Excuse me, is there a different term you prefer?”

“Instead of magic?”

“Yes.”

“No. Magic is fine.“

“Alright. So, I need you to focus. Meditate, if you want to. Then give me access to your core.”

“Whoa wait, what?”

“Your essence. Core. Soul. Mind. It’s difficult to give it a name. I will do the same. Then we find a way to fuse our powers. Weave them together. And then I perform the spells.”

“Do you have them with you?”

Loki smiled.

“It's all in my brain. I memorised it because I didn’t feel like carrying around all those tomes.”

Strange started to smile, too.

“I still can’t believe you did this. For me.”

Loki just shrugged, but there was a warmth in his stomach that hadn’t been there before. It reminded him of drinking with Strange in Hong Kong…

“So,” Strange said with a grin, “do we need to hold hands for this?”

Loki was very tempted to say yes, but he shook his head.

“No. Physical connection doesn’t matter. Like I said, I need you to focus and to be open. And then you will just have to trust me.”

“Okay. Lead the way,” Strange said, closing his eyes and resting his hands on his thighs.

It didn’t work. Strange opened his eyes.

“What’s the problem? What did we do wrong? Individual spells not compatible?”

“No, it’s worked fine before. I did test them.”

It sounded a little bit more defensive than strictly necessary because Loki knew _exactly_ why it wasn’t working. He was holding back. He’d never done that when he had been practising, and why would he. He’d been on his own. But now he was guarding himself. Giving only as much as he thought would be necessary to power the spells. Obviously that wasn’t enough. Which was scary. He sat a little straighter. Fine then… this _was_ important.

“Again,” Loki said, and Strange nodded and closed his eyes again.

“Holy fucking shit!”

Strange jerked back, ripping their bond apart.

“I’m… sorry. Sorry. Give me a moment, please.”

Loki frowned. Strange looked alarmingly pale.

“Are you alright?” Loki asked him.

“Your… seidr is terrifying. Fascinating. Awe inspiring. I mean – you’re a god, after all, so I should have expected something like this, but...”

“I’m not really a god, Strange.”

“But you're so much more powerful than me. My magic is a skill, a craft. Yours is... pure power. Part of you. It's like I could feel... you. Who you are.” He let out a breath. “Wow.”

This was dangerous territory, and it had nothing to do with performing a challenging combination of spells. Loki rolled his shoulders.

“Shall we try again?”

But Strange was just looking at him. Studying him, as if he was trying to figure him out. It was extremely unsettling.

“Strange! Again?”

Strange narrowed his eyes, and Loki suddenly felt like a patient being examined by a physician. Duh.

“You’re usually so good at keeping people at arm’s length,” Strange mused, and Loki’s stomach dropped.

He should have known that sensitive, perceptive Stephen Strange would be able to detect more than he was supposed to. Of course he would. Loki lifted his chin.

“Pushing them away, you mean.”

“Well, yeah I guess… I mean there are some that you allow a little closer before you do it, but at some point, it always happens. All sharp edges…”

Loki wasn’t entirely sure what the last part was supposed to mean, but it hit uncomfortably close to home. He took a deep breath and put as much authority in his voice as he could muster.

“We’ll try again. Now that you know what to expect you can adjust. It will work this time.”

And it did. Just like Loki had imagined. Their powers intertwined and wove together, and when he murmured the first spell, he could feel it come alive, infused by their combined energy. Strange sucked in a breath through his teeth, but there was nothing that indicated he was in pain, nor any other kind of problem. Loki contemplated aborting the spell, but when their bond stayed strong and stable, he started uttering the next layer of spells. And another one on top. He could feel the energy of the individual spells flow to the indicated structures. It was a thing of beauty, and his chest swelled with a pride he’d rarely felt before. This was good. It was _right_. And it had absolutely nothing to do with proving he could do it.

At one point there was something that felt like resistance, and Loki paused and waited for Strange to break the bond, but he didn’t. Loki wanted to ask if Strange was alright, but holding all those different spells together required all his mental capacity. And then he just _knew_ that Strange was alright, so pure and immediate as if it was his own emotion. He almost dropped the construct. Loki drew a deep breath. One more. One more layer and Strange should be able to tell if it was working. He carefully added the last spell and then withdrew, at the slowest possible pace, to give Strange time to react. And Strange did. They concluded the spell in perfect unison, and then Strange opened his eyes and stared at his hands. He rubbed them, laced his fingers together, opened and closed his fists, again and again, and there was a look of utter joy on his face.

Loki smiled at the sight.

“We did it,” Strange murmured, and it sounded completely overwhelmed. Like he had been absolutely sure it would be impossible. Or rather as if he hadn’t allowed himself to hope. He looked up.

“ _You_ did it. You _actually_ fixed my hands. Even… look at this. Not even scars anymore!”

“Is that… I’m sorry, I should have asked you first.”

“Huh?”

“Not having the scars any longer, is that… alright with you?”

Strange smiled at him, so wide and so full of joy that Loki didn’t quite know what to do with it. It was a really, really nice smile… actually Loki knew full well what he wanted to do with it.

“You’re amazing, Loki. Thank you. I don’t even have the words to tell you how grateful I am.”

Loki swallowed. Words wouldn’t be necessary, actually… he swallowed again, hoping his voice wouldn’t fail him. He stood.

“I’m glad it worked. Let me know when the effect starts to wear off. It should be relatively easy to renew it if we do it in time.”

Strange stood up, too, extending his hand.

“Will do. And – thank you. Again.”

Loki shook it.

“You’re welcome.”

Loki looked at Strange for a moment, then he turned towards the door. He should be happy. It worked. Strange was happy. And grateful. And still… he walked a littler slower than he usually would, willing Strange to call him back. Nothing. Fine then.

“Loki!”

Thank the norns. He made a point of turning back _slowly_.

“Hm?”

“How long? I mean, when do you think the effect might start to wear off?”

Really? Loki snorted and turned his back again.

“Don’t know. I’m not a witch.”

“Excuse me?”

He turned back once more, arms spread.

“I can’t see into the future. Oh wait, _you_ can.”

And Strange just crumbled.

“Please don’t do that. Don’t be like that.”

“Like what?”

“Cold. Bitter. I… I never know…”

Strange ran a hand through his hair.

“You keep doing it. Pushing me… pushing _people_ away. Making a point of not needing anyone. And then again sometimes I swear you don’t really mean it. Like you’re just testing… But how is a guy supposed to know when you mean it and when you don’t?”

The bottom dropped out of Loki’s stomach. This was it. This was his one and only chance to… to do what, actually?

He smiled, but it felt sad and painful on his face. Joyless. He opened his mouth, and it was the first time in his life that he did that without having a well refined line prepared. What came out, low and almost breathless, was the most terrifying thing he’d ever said:

“I never mean it – with _you_ , that is. I never mean it when it’s you.”

There. He’d said it. Any moment now Strange would laugh at him, crack a joke, shrug it off, and it would hurt like Hel. Loki squared his shoulders and widened his stance to take the blow like a man. Strange stood, rooted to the spot, staring at him. His throat was working as if he was trying to swallow but couldn’t. And then he closed the distance and reached out, his hands sure and steady, framing Loki’s face, and it felt incredible, as in ‘unreal’, as if the universe was making a mistake, which the universe never did, and—

“You’re an idiot,” Strange said, looking straight into Loki’s eyes. “You’re the most intelligent person I know, and you’re an idiot.” 

And while Loki was staring back, Stephen Strange started to smile, and Loki couldn’t help but return the smile.

“Can I kiss you, please?” Stephen said, and Loki just nodded, because none of the things he was trying to say made any kind of sense in his head all of a sudden. And Stephen leaned in and kissed him, soft gentle lips still curved in that beautiful smile of his, and then Stephen broke the kiss to repeat “idiot” against Loki’s mouth, full of affection, and then resumed kissing him.

“I contemplated breaking someone’s hands to test the spell, but I assumed you wouldn’t approve of that approach, so I didn’t,” Loki blurted out when they finally stopped kissing, and Stephen laughed out loud and pulled him into a hug.

“Good choice, Loki. Well done. I’m proud of you.”

That shouldn’t feel as good as it did. He knew it was banter, and he would come up with a clever retort any minute now. Soon. Someday. Or maybe… maybe not. Maybe he would just stay where he was and hold Earth’s Sorcerer Supreme to his chest, feel his strong grip around his waist, and be happy. Yes. Maybe that.


End file.
